“I can’t TELL you to catheterize yourself,” the instructor told us at the end of the first class on catheters, “but let’s just say the first person I ever catheterized was myself.” Wink-wink.
She rummaged in the box in front of her. “I have a bunch of sealed, sterile Foleys here,” she said. “Just in case anyone is interested.”
A few people went up to collect. I took one, too. What the hell.
I am so going to catheterize myself. The dummies in lab have the most obvious urethra. Like the bore of a shotgun, practically.
This ain’t no thing. Hands-on trumps theory for such things. And I certainly need the practice.
Back in Level 1 I thought administering a suppository would be easy. Well, actually it is totally easy. Lube that capsule and shoop! But I thought it would be obvious. Aim for the asshole. It’s not always obvious. My first client in need was a very heavy, bed-ridden man with surgery scars on his butt from old anal fissures plus bed-sores in various stages. Between trying to repo his body and rogue puckers, it was confusing. I almost tried to jam 5mg of Bisocodyl into a healing decubitus ulcer. There was so much flesh, so many nooks and crannies. More practiced nurses and aides learn how to shoehorn all that aside, zero in for the shoop. I am still getting to that level of hands-on confidence.
So I can only bet the urethra, especially the female urethra, is more sneaky. So I will practice on myself, what about it.
Until I was in my teens I didn’t know females peed out a different hole than your vagina. Yes, I could be your nurse one day. But I am learning.
I can hardly stand to look at my own clam in the strategically-tilted mirror. “Blaaaaah,” I announce, taking a PRN sip of Jim Beam as with the other hand I fiddle with my junk, searchingly. This is a reconnaissance mission. I don’t even have my catheter; I left it in my locker.
To be continued.
Edited 1 day later to add: It burns!
